The Origin of Ice
by SilentAnonymity
Summary: If you are not believed in, do you exist? And if you don't, then who is Jack Frost?
1. Begin Alone

**The Origin of Ice  
**

Written By: SilentAnonymity

Dedicated to the cold and lonely

Chapter 1: Begin Alone

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Begin alone.

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Darkness is the first thing I remember. It was cold and dark, I was alone. I was full of fear as I was lightly lifted upwards toward the surface of the water, my body was unheeding to my desperate attempts to pull myself back into the depths of the lake, to sleep for a while longer…but how long had I intended to stay asleep?

I broke through the ice as smoothly as if it was in its liquid form and I opened my eyes for the first time. My first breath filled my body with life; the frail figure that had first escaped the deep waters disappeared. I gazed at the world around me, where was I? What had happened? It was as if I had been dreaming, only to have it interrupted by my involuntary journey back to the surface of the earth, I had something to do. I was doing something, really. But…what was it? How did I end up here? How long has it been?

A pool of questions as large as the frozen lake beneath me filled my head as I was lifted far past the snow and into the sky. I remember nothing from the dream I was having in the water. But it didn't matter for the moment, I was focused on something else, on the one answer I had ever received.

Jack Frost.

And like that, I was left in the dark for the rest of my immortal life…for the rest of eternity. Left to grope in the darkness for the rope that would pull me out of solitude; pull me out of hell. I was forcibly made to accept the punishment for whatever crime or sin I had committed in my dream in the lake.

I was less wise back then, I had known far less than I do now. I was unaware of how superficial my knowledge was back then and, with a staff in hand, I had set off to look for my own answers.

I remember the town being a warm and serene place. All was well, no one noticed the stranger walking through the town square, bidding passersby a good day and asking for directions. I couldn't blame them for not seeing me, after all, who can respond to someone who doesn't really exist? But that feeling, the feeling of the first person…it was cold. It froze even me, the child made of snow. That feeling was much colder than snow, much more than frost…it was something more obsolete…it was ice. The feeling of the first child who walked through me was like an icy knife. Shock and fear filled me.

What am I?

Lost, I begun to run, fly, attempting to escape an unknown sin that had led to my damnation in solitude, my past, everything that I had forgotten but wanted-_needed_ to remember. My words failed me; the memories had faded so far with my time in the lake that I could no longer even grasp the ends of its existence.

Months later one day, I had flown for hours without a destination, questions eating away at my sanity as the wind whistled in my ears. I stopped and rested under a tree, sitting on the lush grass of its undergrowth. It had rained a few days previous and the last remains of the puddles still survived. Subconsciously, I took my finger and swilled it around in the water for a bit, it had already begun to freeze.

I saw my reflection for the very first time that night.

My hair was a shade of silvery white, like the frost and snow that I made. Compared to the humans who just so loved to walk right through me, my skin was shockingly pale. But neither of these strange appearances struck me as much as my eyes. They were a deep icy blue. Those eyes pierced through me that first time, striking me like a blade. A feeling that I had felt that first time.; and although I have no recollection of whatever I was dreaming of in the lake, I could not recognize myself and felt an inexplicable hate because of it. I turned from the puddle sharply and flew to the next town, covering it with frost and snow, then moving on to the next.

It was Easter that very next day. Oh joy. The Easter Bunny.

See, I had run into various magical beings during my first few weeks as Jack Frost. The first one being a gold coloured boy named Sandman. Never speaking, just gesturing, Sandman never wants to wake anyone from their sleep. Which is funny, I never had the luxury of staying asleep the one time I was; the moon had disturbed me. I had found him when I first stayed in a town for the night, just sitting on a rooftop and looking at the moon, contemplating my existence, when a strange phenomenon occurred. Gold sand, streams of it, lightly flowing through the air as if it were a fluid, entered the houses of the people, bringing sweet dreams to all. I followed the trail to discover the short and kind boy. With that meeting, I was introduced to the rest of the Guardians or two of them at least.

Santa was a given, but the idea of flying halfway around the world to see a half hummingbird who collects the bits of children that just so happened to fall out of their heads didn't sound very appealing to me. The other?

A 6 foot tall kangaroo. Oh sorry, a bunny.

That day I learned from them…well Santa mostly, the implications of children and needing them to believe in us.

And if I had learned anything else useful from that meeting, it would be that I would never hear the end of it, that storm I mean, but I had already started it, so screw the kangaroo, he could have a snow filled Easter. And it was one heck of a mess that year, the snowstorm on the Easter of '86. Bunny was lucky I didn't coat everything in a thick layer of ice because I learned of the power of belief after I had called for the snow storm.

He was very lucky.

In truth, before I learned of children being able to see, hear, and touch us through belief, I had just gone around making snow. After all, that was all I could do, but now, I felt it. I felt the lies, the hate, the ignorance, the betrayal, the deception. This was a punishment alright and from that year on, I made ice with all the snow and frost…

Do you know what it's like? To see, but not to be seen. To touch, but not to be touched. To hear, but not to be heard…Do you know what it is to be alone? To question your own existence, to be suspended in a compromise between life and death, and to have your world extend only as far as the four walls of your mind do?

Of course you don't.

You're not Jack Frost.

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	2. Remain Alone

**The Origin of Ice  
**

Written By: SilentAnonymity

Dedicated to the cold and lonely

Chapter 2: Remain Alone

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Remain alone.

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The glassy surface of the ice reflected the natural sunlight beautifully. It cast twinkling shimmery colours on the light snow flakes cascading from the clouds above. I looked at it in admiration, but to my horror, I found my own face reflected in it, my eyes staring numbly at what I had just seen. I felt my features contort in disgust and I shattered the icy mirror. I felt the need to vomit. I was and am always sickened by my own reflection and cringe every time my eyes unfortunately happen to land on it.

Instead of leaving a lovely pile of invisible puke on this resident's front lawn, I flew over the town, watching the rainbows of light sparkle and the little spots of water glisten. With a flick of my wrist, these wet patches became slick with ice.

I make snow for the children, for their fun and their play and the frost is a warning to prepare for the oncoming snow, but the ice? The ice is for the adults, those who failed to believe. Those who could not appreciate the beauty of my winters. I am Jack Frost. I am not just a winter sprite, but I am not a Guardian. I am neither God nor reaper. I am not a ghost and I am less than human. I am but the controller of ice.

It's true that I create the ice that you skate on, the ice you build castles out of. But I, and solely I, am the one who makes the ice that you slip on, freeze to death in, the kind that your car skids across when it crashes and kills, not nature. I freeze the ice that is the same as my eyes; filled with a wicked hate built from loneliness and non-believers, thirsting for repayment. The adults made this punishment water drop by water drop, by freezing what warmth and love I had for them when I first left the pond, with their apathy. I am Jack Frost. I am the spirit of winter and the master of death. I pass judgement on those who have failed me, for disseminating disbelief, for simply dismissing my efforts as another reason to be harmed. They don't see the care put into creating every crystal of ice, every unique snowflake. None are alike because I make them so. I make them a wonder to the world, something to be admired. But they push it away in selfishness. They love themselves. Their laziness, a love for their own comfort, not wanting to shovel snow. Their caution, a love for their own belongings, not wanting to step in snow out of fear of getting wet. Their protection from the cold, a love for their warmth, directly shutting me out, excusing my care as a cause of nature, nothing special. I am invisible to them because they are blind. They purposely shut me out. They don't care about me. They don't know-_want_ me to exist. And maybe…maybe I don't.

Who is Jack Frost?

The maker of ice full of hate like I. I am a boy made of ice. I am full of hate.

And I hate it.

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	3. End Alone

**The Origin of Ice  
**

Written By: SilentAnonymity

Dedicated to the cold and lonely

Chapter 3: End Alone

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End alone.

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Isn't it ironic how gods seem to make the pure hearted suffer while the malevolent can bask in the rewards that their reaping collects? Why is it that I, Jack Frost, the only guardian to have died, must suffer? Why is it that saving the life of a loved one means that I must spend the rest of eternity in silence?

Why must they hate me?

Because when no one knows you exist, your screams, no matter how loud, how many times you yell for help, are silent. No one wants to appreciate your gift to them, a snowy wonderland of fun and play. No one wants to believe. Nobody cares. I am Jack Frost. I am cold and alone. I cannot be seen nor heard nor felt. This is what I have become, a product of all the evidence that proves my nonexistence.

What good is a spirit who couldn't-_can't_ even prove that much?

If a change cannot be acknowledged, then do you really exist? What good is your presence if you cannot be perceived by the senses? And if that true, then do you exist?

And what is this sort of existence if any? No importance, not noticed, not loved. Literally the coldest boy on earth. A child of ice. Constant thoughts of death attack you, the idea of nonexistence tempts you, but your reality of immortality prevents you from ever reaching these states. I am not human, that is the truth. I cannot die. I cannot be injured. I cannot-_do not_ ever sleep. I long for their human lives, the short and comforting warmth. I wish for death, but am always denied the one thing I want.

I can't have it.

I once had and lost it, my one final wish.  
And with that I continue, I will not be missed.  
Awoken from death and chained to the world,  
Sorrow and loved laced within snowy swirls.

Not a God, less than human, not seen, nor heard, nor felt. Am I there? Do I exist? And if I do not…well then, who is Jack Frost?

That answer is easy.

Jack Frost, is nobody.

Nobody at all.

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